


To Be Alone (With You)

by Demenior



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Galra Culture, Galra POV, Gen, Holding Hands, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Ulaz Brings Shiro Home With Him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:18:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenior/pseuds/Demenior
Summary: When Ulaz ends his undercover mission, and returns home to the Marmora, he brings Shiro with him.[A birthday fic for Gitwrecked]





	To Be Alone (With You)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wrecked_anon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrecked_anon/gifts).



> Happy [belated] Birthday Gitwrecked!!!
> 
> I am so sorry this wasn't ready for your actual birthday, but, like everything I touch... it.... got a little longer than I intended. 
> 
> I hope you had a fabulous birthday, and now you can enjoy a fun story on a topic I'm really hoping you'll like! You're amazing and deserve the best <33
> 
> This is completely unbeta'd, but a very fun concept from the amazing artist herself! The story caaaan be read as gen, I suppose, but it's intended to be pre-relationship.
> 
> Enjoy!

Ulaz exists in the dangerous crosshairs of fatigue and euphoria. It has been over two days since he abandoned his cover and fled the empire. Alone, he would move much easier. But he is not alone.

The human, formerly Champion of the Arena, personally known as Shiro, has not stirred much in their travels. He had been under heavy sedation when Ulaz had freed him from the operating table, and then the head injury he sustained in their escape rendered him unconscious. Ulaz did not have time to perform any medical aid during their first leg. They had to escape many fighters and other Empire fleets in the nearby systems.

Ulaz was able to lose the stolen cruiser they had been traveling, procure a secondary transport, and then repeat the process. Shiro had been unconscious for the first transfer, which made it difficult for Ulaz to move him without being seen, but the human had been able to quietly slip on board unnoticed for their third ship.

It seemed to have taxed his energy, and he has not moved from his spot in the corner of the bridge since. They have no food, and will not get any rest until they reach the Marmora. And even then, their challenges will have only begun.

Ulaz tries to explain the situation to Shiro

Ulaz has no regrets for what he has done. Shiro is more important to the cause than Leader, or anyone, seems to understand.  
  


* * *

  
Ulaz almost falls into Kolivan’s embrace. The warmth of their brows pressed together, the strength of Leader’s hand clasped behind his head. He’s missed this scent of his family, this touch and familiarity. The Empire is prudish in their touch and affection, stripped of the familial ways that Ulaz is accustomed to with the Marmora.

Kolivan steps away as Antok and others crowd in to greet Ulaz. He’s made it, he’s home. He and Shiro are safe.

Leader’s disapproval is palpable in his glare. Ulaz will come to it, but he lingers in the embrace of his caste just a little longer before he does. He has been away for so long, deep in the heart of the Empire. This all seems like a dream, and Ulaz will finally let himself indulge in this fantasy now that it cannot break his heart.

He is too aware of Shiro to let this go on. Ulaz steps back from the warm welcomes, and faces Leader. The human is quiet at Ulaz’s back, but he is afraid. Shiro has not yet recovered from his head injury, and dried blood still covers half of his face. He is unsteady on his feet, and now faced with new Galra who never wanted to meet him.

“We are glad for your safe return,” Kolivan says slowly. Ulaz wishes to step sideways, to place himself between Shiro and Leader’s glare, “but your disobedience will not go unpunished.”

“With all respect, Leader,” Ulaz says, “your order was wrong.”

“You were supposed to _kill_ the human, not bring him here!” Kolivan snarls.

There are so many warriors here. Ulaz is one of the most skilled fighters in the Empire, and Shiro has proven his worth in battle, but they are both weary and weak from their escape. If Kolivan gives the order to attack, Ulaz does not know if he can save Shiro.

“My loyalty is to the Marmora,” Ulaz argues, “it has always been, you know this, Leader! I have dedicated my life to combating the Empire and seeing our people freed from tyranny. Can you trust that this choice was made with that in mind? Will you trust me?”

It’s a gamble. Ulaz is nearly challenging Leader’s authority— in front of many members of the caste too. Ulaz can hear the mechanical _whirr_ of Shiro’s prosthetic arm. The human is bracing for a fight. It’s an unwinnable fight, but Ulaz admires his determination all the same.

Kolivan’s lips draw back in a snarl, barring his teeth. Ulaz hears a hiss from behind him— he dares to glance and realizes that Shiro is mirroring the expression. They need to defer to Leader, not antagonize him!

Kolivan’s snarl vanishes in surprise.

“Shiro is incapacitated, and mostly incoherent,” Ulaz informs Leader, “he does not know—”

Antok breaks into loud laughter. Some of the other warriors hide their amused grins behind a hand.

Kolivan regards Shiro again, taking in all of him with his eyes. Ulaz feels rooted to the spot.

“This creature is your responsibility,” Kolivan announces, “he is not caste, he is not subject to the protection of the caste. If he does anything to impede us or the mission, he will be killed. Is that understood?”

Ulaz feels like the weight of a planet has lifted off of his shoulders, “Yes Leader.”

Kolivan nods once, affirmative and decisive, “Report to me when you are settled. We have much to discuss.”

Leader steps away and leaves them, followed closely by Antok.

The rest of the warriors seem surprised by Leader’s decision. All of them are in armor, and brought their blades for a killing. Ulaz does not turn his back to any of them when he steps back to take Shiro by the upper arm. The human glares up at him.

“With me,” Ulaz orders.

It’s a gauntlet, to file through the rest of the caste remaining. Kolivan may have given any of them an order, or they may take it upon themselves to force Shiro to be a problem. In any case, if they decide to kill Shiro, now would be the time. Shiro cannot afford to show weakness, and neither can Ulaz.

To his credit, the human is perceptive to this. The Empire prisons ran on a similar system of posturing and projecting a specific persona to avoid conflict. Shiro keeps his chin up and his eyes wide as Ulaz pulls him along.

His brothers and sisters in arms step aside.

“Your human stinks,” Vurit comments.

Shiro hisses at him too. Ulaz tightens his grip and moves the human along.

No one else speaks to them.  
  


* * *

  
For all his might, Shiro seems impossibly small in the med bay. It is built for Galra-kind, and Shiro seems like a child in proportion.

“Sit,” Ulaz orders.

Shiro recoils from the bench in the middle of the room.

“Your head,” Ulaz reminds him, “I must make sure you are fit.”

Shiro doesn’t take his eyes off of the table, “Do I have a choice?” he asks.

“No,” Ulaz says, “but I will be quick.”

Shiro doesn’t take his eyes off of Ulaz the entire time Ulaz runs scans of him. He is in overall good health, especially since Haggar had ordered Shiro to be in prime condition for Ulaz’s examination of him.

The head wound seems mostly trivial. Had Ulaz not been there to soften the impact, Shiro might have fared far worse. It could have even impaired his memory.

“You said you were sent to save me,” Shiro says.

“We did not have the time for the truth,” Ulaz informs him, “nor would you have trusted me had I given that to you.”

Shiro nods slowly, an agreement, though his eyes are sharp, “So why am I here?”

He has not relaxed his shoulders, nor has he unfurled his hands from fists. He is still ready to engage. Ulaz applies a salve to the wound on Shiro’s head. It will be sealed within the next few days.

“I told you— to bring hope,” Ulaz replies.

Shiro shakes his head, “Don’t bullshit me. What do you want?”

“What we both want. The end of this war,” Ulaz says simply.

Shiro exhales loudly through his nose, “You think that’s what I want? To keep fighting?”

Ulaz nods understandingly, “I know you wish to go home, to your people. But there is so much good you could do. If you share your experiences— talk to people about what you endured, what you saw, and how the Empire tried to break you—”

Shiro laughs. Ulaz wonders if the head injury is worse than he assumed.

“What is funny about anything I said?” Ulaz inquires.

“You think you know me,” Shiro states, “you think you have me figured out.”

Ulaz reminds himself that Shiro has spent a long time as lord of the prisons. And constantly rebelling against his handlers. He is crafty, intelligent and dangerously cunning.

“I saved you,” Ulaz reminds him, “you were slated for Haggar’s experimentation.”

They both know that no one survives Haggar’s full attention.

Shiro’s smile falls, “Yeah. You did. Because it was the right thing to do.”

Ulaz regards him carefully, “I saved you at great cost to myself. Some would assume that you are indebted to me.”

Shiro sits up straight, and with the height of the table he’s on, he’s nearly eye level with Ulaz, “Some would. I don’t.”

Ulaz cannot understand this strange alien, no matter how hard he tries. Shiro fascinates him at every turn. This close, Ulaz can see that his dark eyes are actually lined with brown, that his lashes are thick and plentiful. His pink lips are split in several places.

He is so dirty and stinky from the prisons and their escape that he should be repulsive. There are streaks in the grime on his face where sweat— sweat! What an odd adaptation— had run and washed it away. Ulaz can’t stop taking him in.

From the moment he met Shiro, he knew the alien was made from grand stardust.

“We’re done,” Ulaz says. He’s seen guards argue themselves hoarse when trying to corral Shiro. The human is an endurance creature. He will always keep fighting. Ulaz is smart enough not to fight with such stubbornness.  
  


* * *

  
Shiro walks in his wake now. Ulaz made sure to give him a shot to clear the last of the sedatives from his body, and now he is alert as ever. Marmora stop to gawk at them as they go. Many approach to welcome Ulaz, and he longs to fall back into their embrace and touch, but he cannot take his eyes off of Shiro. Ulaz must get them a safe place first.

Shiro, for his part, keeps his teeth hidden. He is aware of his tenuous living status, and how easily it would be for any one of these skilled warriors to act on Kolivan’s wishes.

They go to the creche, where the young apprentices spend their off time laundering. The younglings— kits to those nearly old enough to take the Test— shy away from Ulaz and Shiro. It breaks Ulaz’s heart. He has been undercover for so long that these kits do not know his scent or his face.

He vows to himself to return, to tell them stories and to familiarize himself with them. In another lifetime he would have liked to be a creche master.

They get linens and new clothes. Shiro will have to wear apprentice robes, as he is too small for adult sizes. Ulaz’s armor and luxite blade will be kept by Leader, and he hopes they will be returned to him soon. He can feel his sword calling to him, in his blood. Parting with that— with a symbol of his very life— was one of the hardest things Ulaz has ever done.

“With me,” Ulaz orders to Shiro.  
  


* * *

  
Ulaz leads Shiro to the private rooms, away from the main quarters. Many Galra notice their trajectory, and Ulaz wonders how long it will be before rumors begin to spread.

Shiro walks beside him as well as the human can manage, though his short legs make it difficult. He knocks into Ulaz several times when he does not anticipate a turn. Shiro is also very aware of the leers and laughs made in their direction.

Ulaz takes them to a secluded hall and claims one of the unused rooms for him. What a relief that the system still recognizes his prints, still considers him alive. It registers the room as used, and the lights come on as Shiro and Ulaz enter.

It is not very spacious. The nest takes up most of the room. There is a wide window to let in light when it is safe to do so, and a small space for a table with two chairs. The private rooms were not intended to be living spaces, but they are the only ones that offer privacy, and a place to keep Shiro safe.

“Is this mine?” Shiro asks.

“Ours,” Ulaz corrects him.

Shiro pointedly looks at the single nest, “No,” he says firmly.

“It’s large enough for two,” Ulaz explains, “the only other place to go is the main nest.”

“Main?” Shiro asks.

“The caste sleeps together, in one area. Are humans not the same?” Ulaz asks.

Ulaz longs for the living sounds of the main nest, of feeling his caste surrounding him on all sides and the security of their warmth. He cannot have that with Shiro. It would be too easy for someone to hurt Shiro while Ulaz sleeps.

Or, for Shiro to hurt someone.

“If you share a big bed, why have these rooms?” Shiro asks.

Ulaz’s ears press against his head. Shiro is already nervous about their situation, and he does not wish to give him any unpleasant ideas.

“These rooms are intended for… privacy,” and at Shiro’s confused look, Ulaz adds, “for mating.”

“Oh,” Shiro says.

“But we can lock the door. You will be safe here,” Ulaz insists, “that’s why I chose this.”

Shiro gives Ulaz an odd look, as if Ulaz is making things worse by being helpful.

“Humans sleep alone,” Shiro says pointedly. This seems odd. Ulaz knows that the humans clung to each other in their early days of captivity. They are a tactile species, so Ulaz cannot imagine that Shiro would want to sleep alone. But he will respect Shiro’s wishes. Ulaz is not an expert on humans, no matter how fascinated he is by them.

“Then I will stay with the caste,” Ulaz says, and it feels like a relief. He had been willing to keep Shiro company in the night, but if the human is happier without companionship then Ulaz can rejoin his castemates, “the door can be locked from the inside, so you will be safe until morning.”

He expects a thank-you. This is likely the first time Shiro’s been given any nicety that didn’t come with a price. As usual, Shiro surprises him.

“Why are you doing this?” Shiro asks.

“I told you, I think you are important. That you have the power to act where the Marmora cannot,” Ulaz explains.

“You went against orders for me,” Shiro notes, “I guess… I guess you’re telling the truth.”

“So you will help?” Ulaz asks.

Shiro scowls and glances down at his feet, “I haven’t decided.”

“I do not know if I can procure a ship for you to return home, yet. It will take time. And even if you did return, it is only a matter of time before the Empire reaches your solar system. If they are not there already.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Shiro snaps.

Ulaz waits, giving Shiro more time to elaborate. All prisoners want to go home? Why is Shiro lying?

Perhaps… he did not have a home to go to. Many young people take up spaceflight as a means of discovering their place in the world. Maybe humans are not so different.

“If you are ashamed about your actions in the Arena,” Ulaz says softly, “I am sure your people will understand.”

Maybe Shiro can’t go home because he’s been changed so much. Ulaz knows the humans, in the beginning, all claimed to be a peaceful species. They were not malicious, or intent on fighting. It’s why the two of them had been sent into the Arena as warm-up for Myzax. And why it had been such an upset when Shiro had defeated him.

Perhaps Shiro now has a taste for violence. For the thrill of battle.

Ulaz can’t hold that against him. There’s a reason why he cannot be a crechemaster in this lifetime.

“You don’t know anything about me,” Shiro rebukes him.

Ulaz knows how difficult Shiro can be to manage. He wishes to remain on good terms with the human, especially to convince him to help. He did not go to all this effort for Shiro to end up useless, and to be put down like a rabid animal.

“I assume you are hungry. Through that door you can clean yourself, and put on your new clothes. I’ll go after you. And then I’ll take you to the mess hall.”

“A shower?” Shiro repeats, and his excitement softens his features as he glances to where Ulaz directs him.

“You are free to clean yourself as much as you would like, but I do need to meet with Leader soon. I want to make sure you are comfortable before I leave you.”

It’s unsaid, but Ulaz hopes Shiro understands he cannot leave this room without Ulaz.

“I’ll come with you,” Shiro says.

“No,” Ulaz replies firmly, “you have already upset Leader enough. I must debrief on my mission, and begin writing my reports,” a thought occurs to him, “you could help me with that. Any intel we have on Haggar or her experiments is useful. I know the prisoners had lots of gossip.”

“Rumors,” Shiro agrees neutrally. He rolls the idea in his mind, considering, “ _maybe_ I could help.”

“Clean yourself first,” Ulaz allows him, “and then we will eat.”

Shiro moves slowly, giving Ulaz a wide berth as he passes him, and then finally does as he’s told.  
  


* * *

  
The mess hall is quiet at this time, only a few Galra milling about. It is not mealtime, but news of Ulaz’s return has spread and so he and Shiro are gifted with a warm meal each. They eat ravenously. Ulaz has missed the flavors of home, the smells and the familiar bowls that fit just right in his hands.

Without a word the two of them take a seat at a table that keeps their backs guarded. Their time in the Empire has left similar impulses and thoughts in them. Despite being home, amongst his own kind, Ulaz cannot let his guard down.

Shiro eats quickly and ravenously, foregoing the utensils to use his hands to eat. Stealing was common in the prisons, and Ulaz knew that some guards would encourage scarcity to keep the prisoners at each others’ throats.

Admittedly, Ulaz does not eat any more civilized. It has been days since his last meal.

They each finish in record time, and Ulaz has half a mind to ask for more.

He reminds himself that they can eat later, at mealtime. He must see Leader.

Shiro doesn’t protest when Ulaz decides they will return to their room. They get some laughs and crude jokes as they make their way back to the private rooms. Shiro glares at anyone who speaks to them, but thankfully keeps his mouth shut. Ulaz only has to tug him along once when Xallo gets too close.

“Get some rest,” Ulaz says when they are safe in the room again, “or shower if you wish. I will return as soon as I can.”

“I traded one prison for another,” Shiro observes.

Ulaz wants to disagree, _knows_ that this is not the same, but he’s not sure he has the words for it.

“For now it feels that way,” he says, “but I want you alive, and I want you to live freely.”

Shiro doesn’t reply to that, so Ulaz takes his leave. He hopes that Shiro is smart enough to not tempt danger.  
  


* * *

  
The talk with Kolivan is long. There is much to discuss of Haggar’s plans, of the Empire’s movements. Their strengths and weaknesses, their future endeavors. Ulaz has been deep in cover for deca-phoebs. He has passed along intel at random intervals, making sure that his intelligence will not be lost should the Empire discover him.

Without Shiro, Leader is much warmer. He still scolds Ulaz on his decision. Ulaz remains quiet. He has disobeyed. It is nearly unforgivable. Perhaps being away from the caste, from their rules, and instead having to hold himself strong against the corruption of the Empire, has lead to a corrosion in his character.

Then again, Ulaz considers, perhaps this has been Shiro’s work. Ulaz has always felt inspired by the human. His rebellion might be contagious.

Ulaz feels like he has waited a lifetime for this moment, and even waiting while Kolivan renames him as part of the caste, brings Ulaz home officially in body and in spirit, Ulaz feels like he cannot wait another moment more. His blade is heavy in his hands, and his blood races at the touch of it. He is Marmora once more. His life is in his hands. He is whole again.  
  


* * *

  
Ulaz is slow to return to Shiro. Wearing his armor again has brought him home completely. His caste leaps at the sight of him, dressed properly once more, and they spend too long embracing and trading happy words. His armor feels different, after so long without. It is… more fitted. Ulaz assures himself that he has simply grown in his time away, but perhaps the Empire’s lavish lifestyle wreaked havoc on his waistline as much as it did his obedient nature.

All conversations fall to silence whenever Ulaz mentions Shiro. The Marmora do not understand why he would bring an outsider here. One of Haggar’s experiments. Someone Ulaz was ordered to kill. Ulaz has faith that, with a little time, they will understand why Shiro is so important.

He is torn from his joyous reunions as he approaches the private rooms.

There’s shouting. A crash, and a snarl. Distinctly human.

Ulaz curses his foolish human, and breaks into a run.  
  


* * *

  
Ulaz grabs Yutuk by the scruff and tosses him into Tiruk to shove the larger galra aside. Shiro is on the floor, having lost his footing at some point during the scuffle. There is no blood, Shiro appears to remain completely intact. Ulaz is relieved. Only momentarily, and then rage takes over.

Shiro springs up with a vengeful cry to reclaim his fighting stance.

Ulaz doesn’t bother calming his castemates. There’s an energy now, a call for violence. The intruder— no matter how it happened— has challenged them and they will all answer. No matter Shiro’s capacity for violence, he’ll be torn apart here.

Ulaz isn’t quite sure if he grabs or throws Shiro— he can feel the give of Shiro’s skin under his claws and Shiro’s hands clawing back at him, but he does not stop.

Ulaz doesn’t stop until he’s forced Shiro into the private room, and thrown the human across the floor. Shiro bounces once, and then falls into the nest.

“You fool!” Ulaz shouts, “do you want to die?”

Shiro pulls himself out of the nest with matching fury, “You don’t own me!”

“I am the _only_ thing keeping you alive!” Ulaz reminds him.

“I didn’t ask you to!” Shiro braces, facing him.

Ulaz has never seen Shiro flinch from a fight, from battles that should have been unwinable, and he has always faced them head-on. It is part of his intrigue, his fame, his legacy.

Ulaz has one of his own, that Shiro does not know about.

Ulaz steels himself, finds his center again. Shiro makes him lose all reason.

“What do you want?” Ulaz asks.

“Why do you care?” Shiro demands.

“What do you want?” Ulaz repeats.

Shiro steps closer, “And I said: why do you care?”

“This is not the Empire, I am not trying to control you,” Ulaz reminds him, “I freed you— I brought you here against orders!”

“I didn’t ask you to!” Shiro hisses, “I have no debt to you. I owe you _nothing_!”

“You don’t want to go home, you don’t want to live, you don’t want to talk to me— what do you want?” Ulaz asks, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you want!”

“Why do you want to help me?” Shiro shouts, “why would you want to help something like me? Explain that! Because I don’t understand! It doesn’t make any sense!”

“You’re a hero,” Ulaz says simply.

Shiro takes a step back, “What?”

“You’re inspiring,” Ulaz says, and he inches forwards, “your presence changed the prisons, influenced the Empire. There is nothing quite like you in the universe.”

“What are you talking about?” Shiro demands.

“You defy the odds at every turn. You have a kind heart, despite the violence you were forced into.”

“Stop it,” Shiro growls, “stop talking. You don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” Ulaz says, and he’s close enough that Shiro has to look up to him now. Ulaz places his palms on Shiro’s shoulders. How can they be so small, for all the weight they carry, “And that you can be a leader the people can rally around. You can be someone the Empire will fear, for one simple reason: you are a good man.”

He can feel the tremor of Shiro’s body under his hands. This was a calculated risk. Had Shiro perceived him as a threat, he would have attacked the moment Ulaz invaded his space.

Shiro’s eyes leak, and the human looks away as Ulaz furrows his brow at the strange reaction. He’s seen Shiro cry before— but only in response to injury and surgery.

“Did I hurt you?” Ulaz asks worriedly, “I touched you in anger earlier— you made me quite upset.”

Shiro jerks away from Ulaz’s touch.

“I’m fine,” he mutters. In truth, the cuts from Ulaz’s claws seem fine and have drawn barely any blood. He should recover easily.

Shiro does not say another word, and turns away from Ulaz and flees to the bathroom. Ulaz hears the door lock.

He could go face his caste. But leaving Shiro alone is what brought them into this scenario. Ulaz takes a seat, and holds his blade in his hands. Even unactivated, it feels like a welcome embrace.

His honesty must have had some influence on Shiro. Perhaps, when he finishes in the bathroom, he will be willing to discuss future plans.  
  


* * *

  
Shiro does not come out for quite some time. At first he alarms Ulaz when Ulaz hears his breath hitching, but then Shiro runs the shower and Ulaz cannot hear him over the water. Ulaz learns to block out the sound as white noise while he waits. The shower runs for a very long time.

The human seems startled to see Ulaz still waiting for him. His hair isn’t wet, even though the water was running. Ulaz wonders how often humans wash their hair.

“Are you alright?” Ulaz asks.

Shiro shrugs, “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

Shiro comes to join Ulaz at the table. He has to hop up to get into the tall chair, and his legs swing in the air. He pokes at one of the thin scratches Ulaz gave him.

“It’s, uh, it’s nice to see you do actually have claws,” Shiro says.

“I am Galra,” Ulaz reminds him, curious as to how the human has forgotten this, “of course I have claws.”

Shiro huffs a soft laugh, “Yeah, but— you know what I mean.”

“I do not,” Ulaz informs him, “is your head injury still bothering you?”

Shiro actually smiles— baring teeth— and shakes his head, “Forget it.”

“I’ve decided I will stay here tonight,” Ulaz informs him.

Shiro’s eyes widen, “Why?”

“You antagonized the caste,” Ulaz reminds him, “now I must make sure you do not get yourself killed.”

“I just wanted to look around,” Shiro shrugs, “they started it.”

“You are untrained, and they do not realize how precious you are,” Ulaz says, “you cannot afford to be foolish. I would have walked with you.”

Shiro folds his arms across his chest, “You take the floor.”

“The nest is more than adequate for two Galra,” Ulaz says, “besides, I do not think humans are as solitary as you want me to believe.”

“You stick to your side of the… whatever, nest? And I’ll stick to mine,” Shiro says.

Ulaz nods in agreement. He doesn’t understand why this separation is so important, but he’s not exactly excited to have to spend his night with a human anyways. Shiro has a peculiar smell— it’s growing familiar to Ulaz now, with Shiro clean and free of the stench of the prisons— but he’s not sure if he likes it.

Oh, and what will the caste be saying of him tomorrow when he and Shiro smell like one another. Ulaz has endured many hardships. This may be the worst yet.

Shiro shifts his weight several times while Ulaz thinks. He seems uncomfortable. Ulaz wants to ask, but good sense tells him to hold his tongue.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Shiro says into the prolonged silence.

Ulaz clasps his hands in his lap, ears forward, the model of an attentive listener.

“I’ll do what you need— talk to whoever you want. I’ll make speeches, videos, whatever you think will help. On one condition.”

Ulaz can’t help but lean in again. Shiro is so bold as to think he has any leverage? If this were a scenario that he could bargain in, it would be pointless. Ulaz is the only thing keeping him alive. He should, theoretically, show some respect.

He also barred his teeth at Leader. And has the whipping scars to prove that he has never given respect to anyone he does not think has earned it.

Ulaz should be frustrated by this, by his difficult ward. Instead, he is endeared further.

“Name it,” Ulaz replies.

Shiro pauses a moment, possibly wondering if he should give away his intentions. Ulaz watches as he steels himself, and he says, “I’ll do whatever you want. But only if you help me find the Holts.”

“Holts?” Ulaz asks.

“The other two humans I was captured with,” Shiro clarifies, “they’re my crew. I can’t go home until I find them.”

Ulaz hardly has to consider the terms, “Of course,” he agrees.

“A deal?” Shiro asks, and holds his hand forwards.

“A deal,” Ulaz agrees, and reaches forwards to clasp Shiro’s forearm in his hand. He is so small, Ulaz cannot believe the grandness of his soul.  
  


* * *

  
It isn’t until they are in the nest, later into the night cycle, that Shiro speaks to him again. Ulaz has finally settled into his side, with his nest arranged properly. Shiro had only wanted one pillow and one blanket! He’d given the rest to Ulaz, and now Ulaz feels properly spoiled.

Shiro has his back to him, and the humans voice is tender and soft in the dark.

“Did you mean it?” he asks, “all those things you said?”

“Apart from times I had to, while undercover, I have never wanted to lie to you,” Ulaz assures him, “everything I said today has been the truth as I see it. I freed you because I think you have the power to turn the tide of this war.”

Shiro sucks in a heavy breath, but doesn’t reply.

Ulaz waits a moment more, but it appears Shiro has nothing more to say on the topic. Ulaz turns back to his side of the nest and snuggles in. He could purr he is so happy to be home, even if home seems to be both a welcome and a danger at the same time.

“Ulaz?” Shiro pipes up. Ulaz hears him turn so Shiro must be looking at him, “this isn’t a dream, right?”

Ulaz grunts as he wakes up from the sleep he was about to slide into, “Why would—”

“This is… this is nearly everything I’ve ever dreamed of. Escaping. Freedom. A way to find Matt and Sam. And being told I’m… anyways, I’m— I’m afraid to sleep. Haggar would do this, set this all up, right? And then rip it away from me?”

“You are not asleep,” Ulaz assures him, though Shiro’s fear reawakens a fear in Ulaz as well. How many times did he dream of the end of his mission, of returning home? How many times did those dreams begin to involve Shiro too, of having Shiro at his side?

“Are you sure?” Shiro asks, “are you sure this is real?”

“Yes,” Ulaz insists, for both of them.

His blade sings out to him, and Ulaz reaches it easily from his place in the nest. Shiro tenses beside him.

“I am sure,” Ulaz repeats, “because my blade does not lie. This is real— there is nothing like it in the universe, not even I could dream of such a wonder.”

He turns it over in his hands, and tightens his hold on the pommel. It fits easily under his pillow.

“It is a luxite blade,” Ulaz continues. Shiro does not relax yet, “they are incredibly rare, and only used by the Blade of Marmora— forged only for the warriors who have passed the Test to become full members. They have many qualities,” Ulaz turns to Shiro, “one of which, is to bolster courage.”

“I’d feel better with a sword,” Shiro agrees.

Ulaz holds out a hand between them, “I will share the strength with you. Another quality of luxite is to ward off negative thoughts.”

“A nightlight could do the same thing,” Shiro remarks. Ulaz isn’t sure what he is referring to.

Gently, slowly, Ulaz feels Shiro’s small palm lay against his own. Ulaz holds his blade tight, and loosely curls his fingers around Shiro’s hand. He feels Shiro reciprocate the gesture.

Shiro breathes out deeply, and he finally relaxes.

There is much work to do, Ulaz muses, and thinks of the future. What he hopes to accomplish, and all the ways it could go wrong.

Shiro’s hand is small and warm in his. He feels the soft squeeze of Shiro’s fingers, seeking solace. They are not alone in the dark. They have survived, and fled the Empire. Now they are here, together. There is nothing more to fear tonight.

For now, there is sleep.

Tomorrow is a new day. 

**Author's Note:**

> If it's not obvious, Ulaz is completely smitten by Shiro and is verging hard on it developing into a crush :))


End file.
